No Roads left
by Acromania
Summary: [UNDER CONSTRUCTION] Well, her job was simple - at least the desciption was. Help them however possible... yeah, right.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** Hey there. Just something quick I wrote because I love this universe and Marion Hood is such an awesome writer. So this is some kind of an experiment and maybe a chance for me to start writing again, because the people that know me are probably sharpening their pitchforks and buying torches to hunt me. Let me know what you think. Thank you in advance._

 _ **WARNING:** I don't know if I will continue this... and as ever: I am looking for someone to help me finish it - like Sherlock with his skull I need someone to tell me you are out of your mind or on the right path - , but furthermore beta it. English isn't my mother tongue and I hate when a reader has to cringe just reading my story._

 _But most importantly: ENJOY!_

* * *

The steam of the coffee Styrofoam cup in front of her lets her sunglasses cloud a bit and tickles her red nose. It's April in America and she is somehow lost. Lost in herself definitely, but also in a past she can't even cry about anymore and in one goal someone she didn't even believe in before she met him put like lead on her shoulders. _Angels, …_ she thinks with an edge of bitterness that she regrets as soon as she feels the prickle on her skin.

"Sorry…", she mutters to no one in particular and something about the whole situation lets her chuckle with her barely used voice. The sound is strange in her own ears; behind her glasses she catches some stares of the other people waiting for the bus in the cold and wet air of the shelter as well which range from concern, to confusion and lastly and mostly disgust. So to hide herself a bit better, she pulls the hood of her pullover over her head and pulls the sleeves of her leather jacket further down her hands to her knuckles. A gleam catches her eye for a moment; a cheap reminder of a childhood long gone but a cherished one none the less. Her thump caresses the ring for a second before she pulls herself away from memories dangerous enough to let her lose her mind.

The door to the shelter screeches open and her eyes zoom in on the person entering. Her mouth pulls into a frown – just the person she was waiting for. She cheers inwardly. Line, hook and sinker he fell for the blonde bitch he throws a boyish smile to. Don't be stupid, boy… she thinks bit is aware that all thought warnings wouldn't get her anywhere. The bitch uses the mirroring technic, an old trick used to flirt and he falls for it. _Hunters these days…_

But their interaction isn't what she is here for she reminded herself. A friendly laugh just for the show reaches her ears. _Demon,_ her insides screeches and the laughter of the meeting pair pierces the used air around her again. How could an intelligent strapping lad like him be so freaking obvious, she asks herself not for the first time.

She watches them and bid her time. Maybe she should take care to present him with a few symbols someone like him, with this past – brother and father and her… nevermind – would recognize immediately and that would plant a seed of trust in him. What would be in her for someone to trust her she didn't question because it wasn't important for her job.

 _Do something_ , the angelic force tells her and she grits her teeth against the onslaught of the sweet mixture of pain and pleasure down her back. _All in due time,_ she thinks back and knows without seeing his face that he isn't pleased with her.

"All in due time…", she mutters and averts her eyes when the blonde bitch looks over the hunter's shoulder directly to her.

* * *

"Oh, excuse me…" He says and his voice is a mixture of adorable innocence and too many rough edges for someone his age. _Concentrate_ , she reminds herself. She pushes her dark brown hair back a bit and lets him see the tattoo on her neck. His narrowed eyes let her nearly smile.

"No prob. Whatcha doing here?" She asks and finds herself wondering that she can so easily fall back into the slang of her land of birth. She knows he is confused why he even should answer a totally foreign person like her and to make things a bit easier, she lets her forefinger hidden in the poket of her leather jaket circle just once. She hated to manipulate but the situation screams for it... death or life and all that drama.

"Just waiting for a bus to get to Florida.", he smiles slightly and she had expected to find dimples, but there aren't any. _Pity that, he seems like the kind of guy… concentrate_. She reminded herself again.

"Florida? Don't you have a job to go to, Sammy?" She asks because fooling around wasn't her kind of style.

"How'd you know…" He begins, taking a step back and narrowing his eyes at her further.

"The question you should ask is why a blonde bitch like her –" she throws a look over her shoulder and tells herself to not say too much – damn obligations to Angels - "Is more important to you than your brother who is asking himself for the umpteenth time if he should call you because he is out of his mind with worry for you and too many self-loathing thoughts because he dragged you back into this game."

"How… what…" She places a comforting hand on his arm, throws back the hood with the other hand and lets him see her clear eyes.

"Go back, Sammy. Your life isn't perfect – you and your brother have far too much on your shoulders as it is – but he loves you and most importantly, you two need each other. More than you can imagine. And more than you might think possible in the future." For a moment her voice sounds wistful and she clears her throat, her eyes zooming in on him again. He looks confused and out of his depth, but slightly convinced as well. A sigh leaves her lips when she begins to recognize his decision.

She can't suppress the frown that pulls around her eyebrows and mouth when she throws another short glance in the demon's direction. _That has to do it…_ , she thinks to herself, lets his arm go and pulls her duffle bag over her shoulder. She turns to the door with measured steps and looks over her shoulder when she is about to leave this freaking shelter in friggin no-where.

"Are you coming?" She asks him and smiles crookedly when he nods with determination glinting in his eyes. She leads him to her car and thinks to herself that they definitely have to do something about his too trusting nature. That just wouldn't do in the long run.

She opens the trunk of her darling and pushes the button for the mechanism to close the hidden compartment to hide well… her life and who she really is. Putting down her duffle bag she waits for Sam to reach her. For the first time she recognizes their difference in height and smiles slightly.

"Aren't you going to leave?" He asks her when he stands uncertainly next to her. She huffs slightly and shakes her head decisively.

"Nope-" she pops the _p_ "I will make sure you reach Dean in time." He frowns but nods and puts his duffle next to hers.

"Nice car." He says and maybe growing up with a dad and a brother head over heels for one Impala he recognizes love for a car because it means more than a means to drive somewhere.

"Thanks." She says and turns down the volume of the music. Sam chuckles next to her.

"If I wasn't completely sure it is impossible, I would think you were Dean." He says, a rueful and charmingly honest smile on his face.

"Huh…" she says intelligently throwing him a short glance out of the corner of her eyes.

"Why is that?" She continues to make him feel more comfortable.

"He is all about classic rock and muscle cars – just like you it seems." She hums to that and concentrates on the road. Checking the time her hands grip the steering wheel more forcefully and she urges her darling to reach new speed records. She sees his eyes widen a bit and controls her features to not show how afraid she is to come too late.

"Is he in danger?" Sammy asks, slightly turning to her and maybe she underestimated him because he seems to be able to read her body language just fine. Before she can answer a frown appears on his boyishly handsome face.

"What's your name by the way?" He asks and the question is so random she is taken aback a second to only laugh hollowly afterwards for a bit.

"Mya." She says without looking to him.

"Mya…" He lets the not really question hang in the air between them. Before she can snap at him she takes a deep breath but her voice sounds pressed and too full of something for her own liking.

"Just Mya. It isn't of importance. We have to reach your brother or god help me…" She cynically whispers the last part but James Hetfield's awesome voice drowns out hers.

* * *

She pulls over to the grove. The Impala stands directly infront of her car and something in the region of her heart pulls painfully. It's not fully dark yet but their time is running out too fast for her liking and that alone makes her concentrate on the here and now. She opens the door forcefully and silently apologizes for the abuse of her poor car.

"Hurry along, Sammy. We don't have time to waste." Mya says clearly and opens the trunk to pull his duffle out of it and search it for his salt rounds and pumpgun. When she finds it, she presses it into his calloused hands that were half a year ago occupied with writing essays for his university curriculum and now were used to save his brother… hopefully. Next she pulls a zippo out of her pocket, her thumb lovingly caressing the worn rune on it.

"How do you…"

"Not again with the questions, Sammy. Just go." She answers, pressing the zippo into his hand. They hear yells in the distance and maybe he recognizes the voice of his brother because a second later and without a backwards glance he starts to run in the direction he needs to. Unconsciously she breathes a sigh of relief and a warm tickling down her spine lets her know that someone up there is grateful. She looks up into the rabidly darkening sky and sees carnis major – Sirius. One more life to settle the score.

Before she hits the road again, she carries Sam's duffle to his brother's car, a real beauty if she ever saw one. A handy little trick later and the trunk of the Impala opens with a small screak. Her lips form a small smile when she sees the weapons the brothers use before she puts Sam's belongings back where they used to be – right next to his brother. Her card vanishes into John's journal. They would need her sooner or later – that was everything she knew at the moment. Closing the trunk she hears shouts in the distance before a big fire seems to consume the First Tree. Good riddance, she thinks, because old Pagan gods were never her piece of cake.

* * *

 _Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Yeah, well.. thats me. I guess. Thanks for the favorits and follows. Would be awesome to read a few opinions as well. There is always something one can do better!  
_

 _ **WARNING:** I don't know if I will continue this... and as ever: I am looking for someone to help me finish it - like Sherlock with his skull I need someone to tell me you are out of your mind or on the right path - , but furthermore beta it. English isn't my mother tongue and I hate when a reader has to cringe just reading my story._

 _But most importantly: ENJOY!_

* * *

 _A few weeks prior..._

The diner isn't very welcoming but as far as she knows the food is warm, the coffee strong and most patrons are just like her: running away from deeds and pasts no one wants to talk, think, mutter or anything else about. She feels her pocket; a few dollars, a necklace she isn't wearing at the moment - what a rookie mistake of her - and a piece of paper because Merlin only knows why someone should use a mobile.

With measured steps, her eyes taking in the whole room and if needed an escape she walks to the bar, smiling slightly at the woman behind it. She isn't that much older than her. Maybe in her late twenties with a warm smile and tired eyes, dirty-blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun.

"What can I bring you, honey?" She asks as soon as she sees the new guest dressed in black, leather and sadness.

"Coffee, please. And is that strawberry cake?" She says as she sits down, her boots squeaking against the metal food holder.

"Sure is. Made it myself a few hours ago. Want some?" The nice waitress pulls out a cup, a plate and serves her one of the best coffees she had in a long time and a maybe a bit too sweet piece of cake.

"Thank you." She murmurs and inhales the warm, homey scent.

"You're welcome. Eat up!" The waitress says cheerfully and begins to wipe down the bar and some glasses nearby. Inwardly the guest cringes, hoping against hope that there won't be more conversation she isn't up to - because if looked at objectively she doesn't even know the answers to some very easy questions anymore.

"So, what are you doing here?" She hears the waitress, tag says her name is Keira.

"Just taking a short pause. Will be on my way soon again." To where is the question she asks herself not for the first, and a part of her is afraid not for the last time as well.

"Oh, a road trip or are you looking for something? Or…?" Keira sounds uncertain, maybe because her partner for this - in lack of a better word - conversation doesn't seem to like it one bit. For a second she thinks her patron will sink in on herself, vanish into the cloud that seems to hang over her head literally.

"Or… it seems." She tries to smile, a crooked little thing that does nothing to clear her face of worry, concern and uncertainty.

"Well, good luck with whatever you try to accomplish." Keira says lightly, smiles warmly, looks friendly and opens her mouth to ask another question. _Please, no…_

"Keira!" Someone calls her away and the woman is relieved. There was a time when she liked the company of others. She never was a social butterfly, but friends and family were something she cherished above all. Before … everything.

* * *

The bells over the door chime with a nice little ring and she looks shortly in its direction, lucky she took a seat that allows her to keep an eye on most of the diner. The boots of the man that enter seem to be as heavy as her own, but maybe not. He doesn't seem to be crippled by a task like lead on his shoulders.

Keira appears again, refilling her mug with a small smile and a wink. The woman tries to smile back and gets it nearly right.

"What can I bring you, sir?" She asks the newcomer, voice chipper and welcoming just like with her.

"Coffee. And is this strawberry pie?" His voice sounds comforting somehow - and it doesn't matter that he is a stranger, looking slightly gruff and uncared for. Her eyes find his for a second and her breath catches in her throat while his impressive eyes widen slightly. Before she can disappear like she loves to do, he sits down next to her. His presence should be threatening because she knows who or better to say what he is. _Hunter…_

"Didn't think I would find one here…" He says under his breath, not whispering because this often pulls unwanted attention to a conversation he and probably she as well don't want anyone to hear.

"A case?" He continues to ask without looking at her. His hands are big, with nice fingers, a ring on one of them - married.

"Something like that…" She answers softly, doesn't want to cause a scene or seem suspicious.

"You have one or you don't normally." He says, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. She likes him a bit more.

"Normally seems to be the operating word here…." She scoffs softly, a breathless little, scornful laugh leaving her lips.

"I am John." He says, not holding out his hand.

"Mya." She mumbles back, her hands closing around the warm mug to keep this friggin cold away though she doesn't think that the cold makes her skin crawl. Sure as hell it is the branding on her neck instead. She shudders. Her hand finds the rim of her hood and pulls it away a bit. John next to her coughs suddenly.

"God, you are too young for this." He whisper-shouts, his shoulders tense. She smiles - a smile that is nearly identical to her old one. But it vanishes as pictures appear in front of her eyes. She closes them, suppresses the groan because of the headache these friggin afflatus always seem to trigger. Then it is over and a new knowledge fills her while the branding on her neck cause sweat to break out on her skin.

"Did you say the same to your sons?" She asks out of the blue - at least for John - and is prepared for the man's angry glare.

"What do you know about them?" She sees his jaw working - he desperately tries to hold himself back. But he doesn't hunch his shoulders, a sign for a fantastic self-control. Not really surprising, being a hunter and all...

"That they are looking for you, John. And that they need you sometimes - desperately." She calmly says, a rueful smile on her lips, her eyes shining with compassion and knowledge. He swallows.

"I know." His voice is filled with too many emotions to name and her heart stutters for a moment because this looks she had seen one time too many times. Without thinking her fingertips brush along his cheekbone. She doesn't want to flirt, doesn't want to get closer to him. She just wants to show him, she knows. It seems that John knows it as well, because he takes her hand, squeezes it for a second before placing it back on the bar.

* * *

There is silence. Heavy and thick. For a moment she fears that the heavy lead that seems to be her new armor will drown her. The wordless moment stretches, isn't uncomfortable, though. _Maybe there aren't words for him?_ , she thinks.

"Do you know them?" He asks suddenly, his voice low and filled with longing and self-loathing. But there is determination as well. _He is one of those persons drawn in too many directions at the same time…,_ Mya knows. A kindred spirit for her.

She averts her eyes because really - she doesn't know them, his sons. Not like he maybe thinks she does. She doesn't even know if she could tell anyone she knows herself, for Merlin's sake.

"Not exactly. They are important to me, but…" Before she can continue the door to the diner opens again and she suppresses the groan when she hears the accompanying sound. Like wings in the wind.

"Mya, there you are! So good to finally find you. Really good." Unconsciously her hand wanders to the hidden knife. Out of the corner of his eyes John sees her sudden gesture and turns around slightly as well, effectively blocking Mya at least a bit. The man who approaches them doesn't seem dangerous in the least - in John's eyes. But Mya's shoulders are tense, her face marred with a frown and worry a smokescreen over her otherwise clear brown eyes. _Like she is hiding behind walls in her mind..._ , John thinks.

"What can I do for you, Alex?" She asks, her voice surprisingly normal though her heart beats too fast and the pain in her neck doesn't ease up.

"Just wanted to see you, honey buu. I thought I heard you talking about things that aren't of anyone's concern." He says and behind his wide, open smile lays something feral John has no doubt would frighten better men than him. His spine feels painfully ridged.

"He is their father…" The girl - Mya - presses through clenched teeth and the man standing before them, that would seem ridiculous if not for the way his eyes are far too intelligent and unconcerned about everything, furrows his brow as if confused. Then he laughs - an ugly sound. Confusing enough no one else but John and Mya seem to see him.

"We have a deal, honey buu. Do as I say-" His voice sounds like a purr from a cat no one trusts - a mangy old thing that is too wild for its own good, hurting the hand that feeds it.

"But…" Her voice in great contrast is low, nearly a whisper.

"No, buts." John watches over his shoulder as Mya's hands clench in her lap, one hand with a cheap looking ring, the other with scars along the knuckles. Her face is averted from the man, John sees. He tries to stand up, but a hand pushes him down.

"Ah, ah, ah, Mr. Winchester. We have a few things to discuss, haven't we, Mya darling?" The strange man - if he really was one - says playfully, even going so far as throwing a wink in his direction.

"Yes, sir." Mya answers and John recognizes defeat when he hears, sees or feels it. He was the source of that particular emotion far too often. Her answer alone pulls him back to a time when his boys answered like that. Good little soldiers... He cringes.

"Very good, honey. Follow me, will you. You too, Mr. John Winchester." John watches Mya placing some money on the bar and he follows suit, feeling for his weapon in the waistband of his jeans. Shortly before they reach the door to leave the diner, Mya snaps her fingers and the movements and sounds previously missing - not that the hunter was aware a second before - return to the room.

* * *

 _Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading._


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** Hello again. This time a longer chapter. Hope you have a great weekend. Thanks for the favorits and reviews! It's always lovely to read what people think.  
_

 _ **WARNING:** I don't know if I will continue this... and as ever: I am looking for someone to help me finish it - like Sherlock with his skull I need someone to tell me you are out of your mind or on the right path - , but furthermore beta it. English isn't my mother tongue and I hate when a reader has to cringe just reading my story._

 _But most importantly: ENJOY!_

* * *

 _Now..._

The Impala was just a background noise accompanied by Dean's Classic Rock Tape No.2 which he proudly presented when they hit the road again. Sam's face contorted into a small smile looking at his brother but as soon as it appeared it vanished again.

The music now filling the car is just another reminder of too much time spent in here with a father obsessed with revenge and filled with pain for losing the love of his life, with a brother that wanted nothing more than to appease his dad, to be the son he thought he should be. In the middle of it Sam's childhood played out and no matter how fast he learned about the things in the shadows, the monsters that are far too real for anyone's restful sleep, he always felt like he didn't belong. He still does sometimes.

Maybe Dean saw it coming back then because if anything his brother has this instinct Sam always lacked. Maybe his second nature told him to stay out of it on this particular evening. Out of the screaming match, out of the pain Sam tried to display with harsh but nethertheless true (at least subjectively) words and John answered with the stern voice of a father over his head with responsibilities for two children far too young for this 'profession'. And because his brother wasn't there to play buffer like he always did back in the days, everything escalated.

The result was predictable - hurtful words when the motel room door with chipped white paint - Sam can still see it in front of his eyes - slammed shut with a resounding 'don't come back' and a stern face behind it that Sam loves and hates at the same time. He remembers the light feeling around his heart because his feelings were out in the open, because in his youth induced way of thinking - with too much testosterone and too little life experience - he was always right he showed John what it meant to mess with Sam Winchester.

He flinches, feels guilty but a bit angry as well. Shouldn't his father have recognized the character of his own son? Shouldn't he have seen that Sam just couldn't be like Dean? That his heart was maybe softer, maybe too naïve or nice or anything that stood against everything in the job manual of a hunter? Even to this day Sam doesn't know and thinks that these thoughts are a waste of time anyway. Funny, though, that he always comes back to them sometimes. Maybe the phone call with his father is to blame - at least at the moment.

His thumb rubs the lighter he holds in his hand absentmindedly. He looks down then, trying to find another occupation. The lighter is standard as far as he knows; the only thing that separates it from other fabricates is the symbol in the middle on both sides of it.

Sam remembers giving it to Dean to fire up the wood of the First Tree. The Pagan god was banished from the grove as dark clouds of smoke mixed with the clear air of spring and with it the prosperity of the village nearby ended as well. Dean explained everything to him after they left the girl whose name he already forgot at the bus station – a story anyone else would think unbelievable but was ordinary for them.

A part of him was disgusted by the villager's plan to sacrifice a girl of their own for their selfish needs and wishes. The thought passes his mind for a moment and he has to control his face – because looking at it objectively he planned to do the same thing to Dean just a few hours ago – leaving him to deal with the shit others were responsible for, not looking back, not taking responsibility. Taking the easy way out, taking the road to fulfill his selfish need to revenge Jess and not caring that in the past six months his brother started to depend on him again, just like he always did and does on him.

And he knows that Dean understands probably better than most people would. Even though Dean himself thinks of Sam as the people person, the man who always gets along with everyone, who everyone believes after only a few words, Dean has something Sam misses: a realistic and honest way (maybe sometimes twisted he thinks with a smile) to interact with people. He doesn't choose his words carefully, he doesn't think twice when lives are on the line. He acts. What probably is a weakness of his is judging too quickly and then sometimes wrong, too. But all in all, he is just a people person like Sam is, only not in the same way. The younger Winchester knows how blessed (in lack of a better word) he is to have a brother like him. A brother he nearly left behind...

The thought weighs heavy on his mind. Sam asks himself if he would have gone back to his rightful place if the strange woman with too much make-up around her eyes, with wild curly dark brown hair hadn't approached him. A part of him wants to righteously shout yes, but the bigger and honest part of him isn't so sure. There are just too many things unsaid, too many things happened in a too short amount of time and just for a second he feels years older than he really is with his 23 years.

He wants to believe in _'Cads' fighting when ended is soon mended'_ but can't. He probably should speak openly with Dean and maybe he will try – even if his brother isn't one for heart to heart talks. He snorts softly and Dean raises an eyebrow in question.

"You alright, Sammy?" He asks and his hands continue to drum on the steering wheel to Danzig's Mother.

"Sure." Sam replies, hopes to sound honest and open and not as if the drive to a motel to search for a new case gives him too much time to think about too difficult and painful things. His eyes look at the rune on the lighter in his lap again – _Algiz_ – rune of protection and opportunity. Sam once read that in old Norse history the symbol was carved into the heads of spears. Algiz in itself has many different meanings he remembers but looking back at the situation he received it in he thinks that the strange woman from yesterday was concerned. For his safety, the injustice the villagers washed their hands in or the relationship with his brother, Sam isn't sure.

Meeting the two strange women yesterday, he still feels confused about them. Meg and Mya. He hadn't told Dean anything about them fearing that his suspecting nature would only allow phrases like 'forget about them' when he himself wants to figure out as much as he can. As intrigued he felt because of the blonde - Meg, who he has so many similarities with - he is more curious about Mya.

What a strange name, he thinks and glances at the lighter again. He didn't know what possessed him to just follow her; to just listen to her and going along with her demand without discussion or a good reason. He wants to think that he is a good judge of character, maybe sometimes blinded by his own emotions, memories or expectations but all in all relatively good with people. But just abandoning his plans because of a few words of her? There was something about her though… This girl – no, woman - was definitely trustworthy. That he can't explain why is only a reason to feel slightly irritated about.

He is grateful, too that she gave him that one shove he needed to recognize the feelings inside him – the things he instinctively knows: that Dean and he are supposed to stay together, no matter how unnerving his brother's behavior and prejudices sometimes are. Sam was startled though when he found her gone when the three of them left the grove. He doesn't know what he expected - that she stayed behind? Left him a note? Anything? He doesn't know if he will ever see her again and thank her properly. What stayed behind was a nearly overwhelming first impression - he was definitely intrigued - and a lighter that Sam swears to himself to keep with him everywhere.

"You are quiet today. Something the matter?" Dean asks, turning down the volume a bit and throwing his brother a curious and concerned glance. Sam isn't sure what to tell him – and thinks that maybe the truth would be best.

"Yesterday a woman approached me…." He starts, his voice sounding thoughtful even to himself.

"Aha…" Dean begins and Sam rolls his eyes, his mouth pulling into a half annoyed, half amused smile.

"Dean." He just says and throws his brother a glare.

"What?"

"Not like that. I met her at the bus station… she was the one pulling my head out of my arse, I guess." Sam watches with concern filling his chest the shadow that flies across his brother's face. He stays silent and Sam is too aware of the gap between them that seems to grow bigger and bigger with every different point of view they discuss. The rest of the drive they stay silent.

* * *

So a woman was responsible for Sam coming back - and just on time. On the one hand Dean was curious to get to know that girl, maybe to thank her, maybe to tell her to keep herself out of things that doesn't concern her. He isn't sure yet - because family business should stay family business, however...

He wanted to call Sam, just before he went to the community college where the professor and the cop overwhelmed him. Dean decided against it, though. His own pride, love for his brother and for his father - strangely enough pulling him in two different directions though they should be one family - and his guilty conscious for pulling his little brother - his responsibility since he was four years old, goddammit and rescued him from the fire - back into a game he never wanted to be apart of kept him from it.

Dean is aware that he isn't the smartest person around. He knows his guns, his mechanics and a lot of things between the moon and earth that no person that wants to sleep peacefully and without a 44 under the pillow should know about. And he is also aware that without that woman's intervention and then Sammy coming back he probably would have been dead.

What still feels like needles under his skin and probably would be so until he dies is his sure belief that Sammy was born to be more. More than his dad, more than him in every aspect. And that was fine with Dean. He has his life planned out, loves the long drives, the difficult cases, the feeling to make a difference in a few lives. Saving some, mourning some, giving some a way out. But Sammy… yeah, Sammy was born to change the world. And he took it from him. Not only that, he probably took Jess from him as well - at least a bit.

So he wanted to call him, tell him that he thinks that his decision to go was right; that after killing the demon he should go back to being normal - whatever that means for people like them. Dean didn't and that will stay on his consciousness as well. Now Sam sits in the passenger seat like he always does since six months ago.

He is grateful of course. Dean may not be the smartest person around, but he is smart enough to know - a knowledge that integrated itself into his bones - that without Sammy many people would have died till now, that he himself would have died long ago.

And in this moment he decides then that he will thank the mysterious woman that brought him back his brother - however she did it.

* * *

"Get 'em outta here, Sam!" Dean yells and tries desperately to get the attention of the monster they try to kill. Before Sam can react there are thunderous footsteps on the steps and just like that the small woman from the bus stop appears. Her hair is wild around her head, her face determined and in her hands is a tazer. He stares at her, unable to move, too perplexed by her sudden entrance.

"Do as your brother says, Sammy." She calls, her feet widening for a better stance. Sam is still rooted to the floor and she pushes against his shoulder not too gently.

"Go!" She yells, fire burning in her eyes, stern voice sounding strange coming from her. The noises they make effectively interrupts the fight between Dean and the ghoul which attacks her instantly.

"What…" Sam stutters, wants to ask too many questions in the dangerous situation. The desperate cries of the children is all it takes to focus him on his task, though. _Move, for god's sake_.

"Who are you!?" Dean shouts, his shotgun drowning the fighting noises mixed with heavy boots splashing into water.

"I am not so sure myself." The woman answers, her own gun used as a barricade between the advancing monstrosity and herself. She jumps to the right, successfully avoiding the next strike but hasn't calculated the strength of the ghoul and in the next moment Dean lies in the corner, taser at the ready. _For christ's sake…_ she thinks as he aims. Of course he aims perfectly, of course he hits the ghoul. Mya wishes that he would have given a fuck about laying in the water as well.

 _Fuck…_ , she thinks but calls his name, an emotion within it that she can't and won't think about. What's left is ash and an unconscious Winchester. She runs to him, checks his pulse when his spasm cease.

 _Fuck…_ , she thinks again and says so as well. There isn't a pulse to feel and his chest doesn't rise. Her eyes water a bit, but with an angry movement of her hand the moisture is gone and determination fills her.

"I won't allow it." Mya grunts and pulls Dean out of the corner.

* * *

"Hurry up, Sam. We have to get him to the hospital!" She calls up the stairs when she hears him entering this godforsaken place again. Her cardiac massage at least brought Dean back from the brink of death, but his pulse is still faint. Mya can't stand being so helpless.

"What happened to him!?" Sam yells and Mya closes her eyes for a second, hoping against hope that he will keep his cool head when it is more than needed.

"Electricity and his own stupidity. We have to get him outta here. Now." She tells Sam in a stern voice, trying to give her best impression of John and failing miserably. The younger Winchester wants to ask more stupid questions - frightened out of his damn mind probably - so Mya moves her pointer finger in a circle to get his fast compliance instead.

 _I hate this…_ she thinks with a silent sigh and helps Sam put an arm of his brother over his shoulder.

"Ok, go." Sam says, his eyes a bit deliated but otherwise as clear as always.

When Dean lays in the back of the Impala, Mya moves to the driver's seat without a second thought. The little Winchester doesn't seem to think twice when he enters the car, already turning around when the soft purr of the machine fills the air around them.

Mya allows herself a moment of awe. She is driving _the_ Impala..

* * *

"Hey, doc, is he...?" Sam asks, barely holding back how worried he is.

"He's resting." The doctor simply says.

"And?" Sam presses.

"The electrocution triggered a heart attack… pretty massive, I'm afraid. His hearts - it's damaged." The doctor avoids his eyes and Sam looks in the direction they seem to flicker to. In the door to Dean's room stands a woman that seems far taller than she really is with an unapproachable air around her. She does look impressive, he thinks and he associates her calm but remarkable presence with a guard watching over his brother. Turning halfway around again he concentrates on the doctor again.

"How damaged?" Sam says, his voice pressed and with an edge that no one, not even the with staring preoccupied doctor misses.

"We did all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point, but I'd give him a couple of weeks at most,…"

"How many?" Sam asks, his eyes now fixed beyond the doctor's shoulder.

"Maybe a month."

"No, no, there's… got to be something you can do, some kind of treatment."

"We can't work miracles. I really am sorry." Sam doesn't answer and as far as Mya can judge doesn't feel the symphathic clap on the shoulder.

The heart monitor beeps softly in the background when Sam joins the woman at the door to his brother's room.

"I overheard your conversation. And I am… sorry." Mya says without taking her eyes off of Dean, aware that the words in itself taste ashen on her tongue. There is just something about him…

Instead of answering in the way Sam usually does, he just grunts before his heavy and big hand pulls her around to meet his stern and angry eyes.

"That's the second time you just appear outta nowhere and rescue… us." He says, his voice lowered and she is grateful for small favors.

"Shouldn't you be concerned about the diagnosis you just received?" She asks, her eyes avoiding his for a moment.

"I am. But I won't give up and I will find a way. Dean knows it, I won't." Mya nods along - she was aware of that before he announced it. She stays silent and hopes he won't continue with this half-baked interrogation. Luck isn't on her side… again.

"How come you were there and back at the bus stop?" Sam asks, his eyes imploring her to tell him the truth - his puppy dog technic she supposes.

"Right time, right place - at least these one.. uhm… two times?" She says and tries to allivate her voice with a crooked grin that shows more of her emotions and the broken mind than a neutral facade would have. She curses inwardly. And now the show begins… a whisper caresses her neck and she suppresses the shudder.

"I want answers." Sam says, a hint of desperation clouding his face.

"Don't we all…" Mya whispers but turns around to the other Winchester again, letting her eyes take in his sedated form and decides that a few minutes away won't hurt anyone. At least not Dean.

"Follow me." She says and leads the way to the cafeteria. More privacy, she thinks.

* * *

The coffee in front of her is her anchor for the moment. The hospital brings out all the bad in her and if anything she is completely aware that a panic attack or any other attack for that matter aren't going to be of use to anyone at the moment.

"So, tell me." Sam says and she likes that he is straight to the point; doesn't use his tricks on her that he probably fine-tuned while on the road with his brother.

"I am Hermione. Mya for short. I prefer that and I am a hunter; just like you I would guess." She says, beginning with something that is simple because everything else will be far too difficult. A sigh leaves her lips.

"Ok. How did you…well.. the grove and now the haunted house, how did you…"

"Know that you will be there?" She finishes for him and takes a scalding gulp from the cup. Sam nods, his transfixing eyes singled in on her.

"I have my sources… and I can't tell you more at the moment because I myself aren't sure about a great many things at the moment. I just know that my… destiny? It is combined with yours, that means with Dean's and yours." She tells him and can't even believe her own words. And Sam seems to share her impression because he snorts in disbelief.

"Destiny? What the heck… you don't seem like someone believing in that; Dean and I don't." He answers.

"Well, that's all I know. Maybe there are forces between heaven and earth, Horatio and all that shit." Mya says with an edge to her voice. Sam's eyes widened in amusement but before he can say anything, the woman before him continues.

"Look, I know as much as you do at the moment. I know that we three are searching for answers, for revenge and that we know that there is more in the darkness than the tooth fairy." Her voice sounds tired and something about her slumped shoulders and overall haggard look lets Sam ease up. She reminds him of his father on a particularly difficult case.

"And I am tired of being alone… and something tells me we are looking for the same thing. So I thought - uhm - maybe we should work together. Just sometimes when you boys need my help." Her mouth opens and closes for a second or two but she stays silent. A heavy breath leaves Sam's lips and he leans back in the uncomfortable plastic chair far too small for his tall build. He watches her, the symbols etched with ink into her skin screaming hunter, the big bruises under her eyes fear and too many sleepless nights.

"Dean won't trust you." Sam says slowly, his eyes never leaving Mya's face. She bites softly on her lip, but a small smile pulls on the corners of them, though. She didn't miss that he excluded himself from that corner.

"He can adapt pretty quickly, I am sure. And one thing, Sammy." She looks into his eyes, a deep brown with amber flecks meeting his eyes.

"I will never hurt you and I will never betray your trust. That I am a hundred percent sure of." Her seriousness surprises and impresses him. When dealing with hunters - though they are all the same - honesty and trust is something rarely found.

And just like that Sam smiles, his hand squeezing hers for a moment. And there is comfort in this one touch, a small fire warming her insides. All of her power is used to suppress tears because it was so long ago that something like that happened. A part of her is astonished, another part deeply grateful.

"Thank you, Sammy." She says, her voice a bit hoarse, her eyes shining and Sam thinks that maybe trusting her from the first moment wasn't a bad decision.

 _One more brother to go…_ the voice whispers, but Hermione ignores it.

* * *

 _Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading._


End file.
